


Winging It

by fortheloveofwords, kickassanakin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Hand Jobs, M/M, PWP, Slash, destiel slash, destiel smut, destiel wing!kink, how does one tag things, wing!kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:03:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortheloveofwords/pseuds/fortheloveofwords, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickassanakin/pseuds/kickassanakin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long day of a not-so-simple salt and burn, Castiel shows up in Dean's motel room and attempts to ease his hunter's pain with some soothing words.<br/>So much for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winging It

**Author's Note:**

> This is in roleplay-format, which is why the point of view changes so often. Tranland and I wrote this a while back for our ask destiel blog, which features an AU that goes off in a different direction than what actually happened in season six of Supernatural. 
> 
> More details and writing can be found on our blog(www.ask-deanandcastiel.tumblr.com), but this is one of our first threads, so please be nice!
> 
> Thanks!

It had been a long day for Dean. The standard salt-and-burn had become a wild goose chase/hide and go seek deathstravaganza and Dean’s back ached from crawling through all those air ducts.

Dean really hated salt-and-burns sometimes. Still, he had a smile on his face and a bounce in his step as he unlocked the door to his motel room – hopefully Cas would be back later that night, and his simple aches and pains could be whisked away with the touch of a finger.

Thinking of all the other things those fingers could do had Dean smiling even wider and chuckling softly. He hoped Cas would be in the mood for at least _something_ later on, although he was still a little confused on the whole ‘boundaries’ thing. Could he and Cas be considered a couple? Would the angel object to PDA’s? What about Cas’ family – would the Winged Dick Brigade get all pissy that he was down on earth, bumping uglies with the dude who stopped the Apocalypse?

Speaking of Apocalyptic problems, he wondered how he was going to explain the whole “I’m fucking our best friend” thing to Sammy.

Maybe he just… wouldn’t. Yet. He could tell Sam later. It didn’t have to be a hello and “Oh hey, I’m screwing Cas, yeah you remember – angel? Perpetual sex-hair? Penis?” as soon as he caught up with his not-so-little brother. That would just be _asking_ for more familial screwups.

He shook his head clear of his scattering thoughts and stepped over the threshold of the motel. He held back a laugh as he took in the ridiculous decorations: bright blue wallpaper with golden yellow flowers painted all over it. It was so… sunny.

He made his way over to his bag, shrugged off his jacket and outer plaid shirt, leaving him in his loose jeans and a tight grey undershirt. He took out a toothbrush and some toothpaste from the bag and waddled over to the slightly dank bathroom.

He took a moment to admire himself in the slowly-rusting mirror, practicing a smirk and a flirtatious wink together.

Yeah, he still had it.

After that, he opened his mouth in a wide grin and began brushing his teeth. A sexy smile did nothing for you if your teeth were rotting out of your skull.

Listening to nothing besides the sound of bristles scraping against his teeth, it was obvious to notice when Castiel was suddenly in the room with him. There was a whisper of wind fluttering, a strange displacement of air, and there his angel was, righteous sexiness and all.

Dean spit out his toothpaste and rinsed out his mouth before acknowledging Cas. He turned around and gave his angel a childish smile before waving bashfully. “Hey, Cas,” he intoned at last, “miss me?”

/

He wanted to feel guilty. 

Castiel knew with every fiber of his being that what he had done, what he done with Dean was wrong. It was a sin in more ways than one, but knowing all this, even at the time, hadn’t stopped him. He dared say that it spurred him on, but he wasn’t sure about that either. 

That was what one part of his thought process was pleading, though it was being severely outweighed by the other half. God had told all the angels to love humans more than they loved him, had he not? And if what the angel had done with Dean wasn’t doing just that, then he wasn’t sure what would be. It had all happened so fast, and that was what made the situation so quirky. 

He wanted to go talk to Dean, to decipher what their relationship would become from there, but he was afraid. His hunter was ridiculously impulsive and unpredictable at times, so it just made Castiel all the more challenged to confront dean about this. He had to, though, and he knew it.

The angel had returned to Heaven for a short while, passed through his favored versions of it — all of that only to realize that he couldn’t focus on the beauty and enjoyable qualities of it because of what filled his mind. It was all Dean, all of the blissful sins and every reason that what they had done was a good and bad thing accompanied it. This was getting out of hand.

Castiel didn’t bother trying to locate Dean first, since he knew that the hunter was well-hidden from any angel’s perception, and instead traced the Impala down to a motel parking lot several hours away from where his hunter had most recently discovered a new case. As soon as he landed down in the parking lot, he could sense the brightness of a very familiar soul and he followed its call, only to find Dean brushing his teeth in the motel bathroom. “Hello, Dean.”

His hunter finished brushing his teeth before turning around and greeting him as well, using that familiar monicker that Castiel had to admit he was growing more and more fond of every time Dean used it.

“Yes.” Castiel mumbled, not really sure what the appropriate thing to say was at Dean’s light-hearted question. Saying no would’ve felt rude, and saying yes almost felt like too much, but at least they would be on agreeable terms once more. 

“Did the hunt go well?”

/

So Cas _had_ missed him.

That was… good to know. “I missed you too, ya big softie.” Dean grinned, covering up his sickeningly sweet response with a leer. Castiel responded with a question of his own, and suddenly Dean felt like he was in one of those awkward romantic comedy sitcoms – _How I Met Your Sperm-Donor_ , or something like that?

“The hunt was kind of terrible, actually,” Dean mumbled. He left the bathroom and made his way over to his bed, sprawling across the bedsheets and groaned as his aching muscles protested. “The salt-and-burn was more like a hide-and-find-the-dead-body, with bonus vengeful spirits chasing your ass through broken air ducts.” The hunter grunted as his legs reminded him of their very sore nature. Lactic acid really was a total bitch.

“I’m getting too old for this shit,” Dean sighed heavily and rolled over onto his stomach, trying to ignore every muscle he possessed. “So c’mere and help a dude out, will ya?”

A few moments of silence greeted his request, but then the bed he was face-down in sank even further and there was his angel, sitting by his side. “Damn, Cas – please, can you at least make this a little _not_ excruciating?”

Although Dean was still face-first into a pillow, he could feel the warmth of Cas’ fingers as they pressed into the small of his back. Suddenly, warmth crashed through him and washed away the pain from his day. Dean practically sank down into the mattress, breathing out Cas’ name like some kind of prayer. “ _God,_ you’re the best,” he groaned, flipping around and stretching his arms out languorously.

Dean kinda felt guilty about that, though – he was totally abusing Cas’ magic angel mojo, or whatever. Maybe he could do something in return?

His mind flashed to the feel of Cas’ silky cock in his mouth, and he swallowed heavily as that wonderful memory replayed in his brain for less that a second.

It was a little hot in the room, wasn’t it? It totally was. Dean shot up from his relaxed position on the springy bed and all but leapt over to the windows, where an small heater rattled on continuously. The hunter knelt down and found a small knob, with the universal sign for hot/cold plastered on the side. Dean turned the knob all the way into the blue area and stood back up, not looking Cas in the eye.

He had given head. To an _angel_ , for fuck’s sake. That was definitely some kind of sin in the Big Book ‘o Rules, right? Cas wouldn’t want that to happen again. It was a-

A fluke. Hopefully he and Dean would be able to work past that little… malfunction in their relationship. Dean cleared his throat and continued to look at the floor.

“So, um, is there anything I can do to, uh – what’s up?” He couldn’t even stay committed to a freakin’ _sentence!_  

/

Watching Dean as he moved around with a sort of limp in his gait, accompanied with the uncharacteristic grunt of pain that he uttered upon falling backwards onto the motel bed. Castiel felt sorry for his hunter — every time he popped in on him after a hunt, he was in this similar kind of pained, weakened state. Maybe weakened was too strong a word, the angel thought as he watched with slight fascination as Dean flipped himself over onto his stomach, obviously still in pain. 

“Yes.” Castiel murmured, and moved to sit down next to his hunter on the bed. He nodded at the muffled requests, though he knew the hunter couldn’t see him. 

He pressed two fingers into the small of Dean’s back, channeling a stream of angelic grace through his fingers, guiding them slightly throughout his hunter’s body, feeling how the streams hitched along the knots in his back and legs, and especially how they twisted around his liver. Dean had been drinking not all that recently, but if he had, it still wasn’t any good for him. 

The angel felt the corners of his lips turn up in a light smile at Dean’s relaxing muscles. And it only widened at his hunter’s approving groan of his name. “Thank you.”

Castiel set a fixed gaze on Dean, watching as he stretched and paced across the room to turn down the heater. His hunter’s mannerisms seemed uncomfortable in some way as he moved though, and the angel couldn’t help but feel responsible. 

Could he have made him so unnerved in this situation? He was hardly working on behaving in a human manner, and maybe that was what was so discomforting to Dean — he had scarcely noticed that Dean had resumed speaking again. 

“I understand your discomfort.” Castiel mumbled, becoming acutely aware of the ridiculousness that was the phrase he just uttered, followed by one that was of an all too similar nature. “The pain in your back, I meant to say. It…it seems similar to that of wings that need to be groomed.”

/

Obviously Dean and Cas were on different planets. Wings and backs definitely weren’t similar at all.

Well, Dean had no experience in that department (although Cas did), but he was gonna go with his instinct on it.

“Why’re you talking about ungroomed wings, Cas?” Dean very nearly tilted his head in the infuriatingly adorable way Cas managed to do every time he was confused. “Did someone forget to visit the angel salon recently?”

Dean got over his goddamn fear of Cas’ fucking gorgeous eyes and managed to circle around the angel. His eyes slid over Castiel’s trench coat-covered shoulders, imagining large, feathery wings that were… invisible. Dean bit back a sigh and made his way around to face Cas’ slightly stubbly face.

Once again, his mind provided a sensual memory of that very stubble sliding against his own, in a kiss that was filled with heat and tepmtation. This time, however, there was a little bit _more_ :pure white wings covered his peripheral vision, as though they were both cocooned in a swathe of glowing feathers. Unfortunately, that was more of a turn on than even the kiss he remembered – and he was imagining the feathers, for God’s sake!

Dean huffed into one hand and sat down next to Cas, careful of where his hands fell. He decided to wrap one hand around the other in a sad attempt to keep from stroking Cas’ face or something else equally mortifying and gay.

“So… Cas,” Dean said at last, looking anywhere but Cas’ eyes, “do you want me to, uh,” he cleared his throat and crap, his hands had freed themselves and were fiddling around one another like gigantic spiders on crack, “groom your wings? Maybe?”

He looked up into the angel’s face, caught one glimpse of unnaturally bright blue eyes, bit his lower lip and quickly shot his gaze down again.

God _damn_ , he was such a girl.

“I-I mean, if you want me to,” he babbled quickly, “you really don’t have to let me do this if it – it breaks some kind of angel custom thing or whatever, I mean-“

Dean choked off his embarrassing ramble and cleared his throat once more. “Damn it, I’m trying to, uh,” he swallowed thickly and gave up on trying to pay attention to his shoes, instead looking up and forcing himself to confront Cas’ beautiful (he did not just call something beautiful) blue eyes. He took a deep breath to settle himself.

He was about to do what Sammy had always made fun of him for  – start a chick-flick moment.

“I just… I don’t know where this whole ‘us’ thing is going, and I’m – what about your brothers and sisters, man? Isn’t this, like, total sin we’re committing?”

He thought about Cas’ wings once more. How they were probably big, white,  wonderful appendages that glowed with the power of Heaven and righteousness and blah blah blah.

He thought about how probably every time they kissed, or had sex, or said God’s name in vain or something else dumb, Cas’ wings would slowly tarnish, until they were a deep, dark, unholy black.

And he felt terrible about it.

Of course, he didn’t realize he was still talking out loud at this point. He managed a quick glance down at his shoes before realizing that he had literally just said all of that to the damn angel.

Once again - _fuck_. 

/

No. He hadn’t just mumbled something about wings to Dean had he?

Judging from the incredulous look on his hunter’s face though, he quite clearly had and that was a peculiar thought, to say the least. Castiel struggled to find an explanation for himself, seeing as he had spoken the truth, but how in Heaven he was supposed to explain that to Dean was failing him, especially as two questions followed.

“No, Dean, there isn’t…” He trailed off, gathering his thoughts and attempting to organize them in a coherent manner. “Ungroomed wings are uncomfortable. Like the pains in your back.” He explained softly and slowly. “I thought that the idea would be comforting for you.”

Castiel felt his insides coil in tight knots as Dean circled him, probably looking for some indication of wings that he wasn’t going to find. When the circle had been completed, the angel found himself staring back into the hunter’s curious green eyes that stared past his own blue ones. He wanted to ask what, but the vacancy in those eyes held him back, as he knew Dean was probably too lost in thought to be bothered right then. He could ask what he was thinking about later, it was a trivial curiosity that the angel possessed currently. 

His insides churned once more as Dean sat down beside him, his cheeks a little pinker than normal. When his hunter finally spoke however, he could feel his own cheeks burn with unprecedented warmth at the question.

Castiel hadn’t mentioned or even considered the possibility of Dean doing something like that for him, and as luxuriant as the idea proved to be in his mind, he knew it would be wrong. Angels were not supposed to show their wings to even their charges, and Dean Winchester was not his charge any longer. 

He shook his head, though he wasn’t sure Dean noticed, as the hunter was talking again and mixing in thorough sessions of staring at the ground in between. Letting Dean groom his wings would be a rather intimate gesture, the angel knew that, but a memory of the last night they shared together presented itself quickly. 

That night of bliss, the night of sins, Castiel had let his wings wrap around Dean, never touching the hunter, only hovering over him, cocooning him in a way, though the tips of the longer feathers would occasionally brush against the hunter, depending on the way he moved. _That_ had been an intimate gesture, though it was one undoubtedly unnoticed by his hunter. 

“I don’t know, Dean.” Castiel finally responded, staring back into those precious green eyes. He had realized that he had tuned back into their somewhat one-way conversation, but he was glad that he did. 

Dean looked visibly uncomfortable and uncharacteristically stiff, and the angle felt the need to say something, do something. The only thing that came to mind was the possible sin, that felt like a good idea, though it truly couldn’t be.

Castiel sighed, and very humanly rolled his shoulders forward as he brought his wings forth from their separate plane of existence where any angel could see, but no human or other immortal creature would. He let them beat across the air in the room, calling his hunter’s attention to them, and he noticed himself how they fanned out over the bed, dipping into the bed as they were still untouchable to anything he didn’t let do so.

He trusted Dean. He could let him do this if he really desired it. 

/

Dean had been looking down when the rustle of feathers sounded out. He looked up, confused, seeing as Cas hadn’t gone anywhere, until his eyes landed on the massive forms behind the angel’s shoulders that left Dean nearly breathless.

In the back of Dean’s mind, he sighed in relief – Cas’ wings were already black.

But oh, God - they were the most beautiful things Dean had ever seen. In the dim lights of the seemingly tiny motel room, rainbows sparkled among Cas’ pitch-black wings. It was like someone had tipped a vat of gasoline all over his angel. The seperate feathers would slide against each other as Castiel breathed and shifted around, as natural as ever.

Dean thought that seeing the dude he really wanted to fuck with gigantic black wings would turn him off sex forever. He was so glad to know that he had only slightly been wrong – he was turned off from having sex with _anyone else_ , ever. “Wow…” Dean managed after a long silence.

He had the most sudden urge to run his hands through Cas’ feathers. Did they feel as smooth and slick as they looked? He imagined ruffling a few feathers of the magnificent wings; inadvertently copping a feel and leaving Cas none the wiser.

But that seemed… wrong. Dean had a feeling that would be like palming at Cas’ dick and then telling the angel it had been a ‘social experiment’.

He then noticed the fact that those gigantic wings were a bit – uh – compromised.

“Hey, Cas?” Dean asked after a moment of odd staring. “Why are your wings… _inside_ the bed?”

He gestured to some of the pinions, which would slide in and out of the bed covers like there was nothing there to stop them. Dean was reminded of some video game he would play with Sammy when Dad had enough money for them and they were staying at a nice enough motel – the graphics and the design would be so bad at times that at some points the character could literally walk straight through the walls.

That might have actually been one of the temples, but it had all been so long ago that Dean only thought of it because that was exactly what Cas looked like – some elf-eared knight guy who could sometimes walk through walls.

Well, his wings could go through them. He wasn’t sure about the rest of Cas’ body. What he was sure of was that he wanted something out of this experience.

“Can I… touch ‘em?”

/

The bewildered look on Dean’s face confused the angel. He couldn’t tell whether or not his hunter was actually enjoying the privilege of seeing an angel’s wings like this, feathers and all, since he wasnt’ saying anything. His green eyes just wandered all along the lengths, lingering for a longer amount of time around where he could most easily see the feathers’ glossy textures.

There were patches in his wings that Castiel knew were fine, good even, for all the flying and quests and travels he’d been on, considering still the fact that he hadn’t bothered to preen and groom his wings in quite a while. 

The angel grinned at Dean’s murmuring, letting his wings act for themselves again, ruffling themselves out gently in glee. They were so much more expressive than he could ever hope to show, like they had thoughts and feelings of their own, separate from his, rather than a projection of them. 

“My wings are part of a separate plane of existence, so they easily pass through things.” Dean didn’t look any more enlightened than before he had asked the question, so Castiel added gently, “They’re always here, but you can pass through them without notice.” 

He bit down on his tongue as he realized that that wasn’t entirely true. He noticed when something went through where his wings, but that was usually Dean and he didn’t mind. “They’re also more perceptive than the appendages of my human vessel, so I could feel a person’s soul if they were to pass through them, specifically the innermost feathers.” 

Dean’s green eyes were distant for a few moments, though he appeared to be listening otherwise — their silence was broken by a new request though, that Castiel couldn’t disagree with.

He nodded, and picked up his hunter’s warm hand, guiding it towards a nicer patch of feathers that weren’t beaten into disarray by cosmic travels. 

The hand didn’t move for a few moments, but when it did, the angel watched. Dean was slow in his movements, obviously unsure of how to proceed, but hopefully encouraged by Castiel’s nod of approval. 

He hadn’t expected to enjoy this simple act so much. 

/

As Cas picked up his hand and gently moved it to rest against the glossy feathers, Dean all but quailed and nearly drew his hand back.

He was about to touch feathers. From his angel kind-of-maybe-boyfriend’s back.

A deep breath was heard as his fingers made first contact.

_Wow._

Cas’ feathers were… Dean would say they felt like electricicty and velvet. Smooth tingles raced up and down his arm as he brushed through soft feathery down. Screw what he was scared of earlier – Cas’ wings were fucking _awesome_. He paused, still a little worried about doing something wrong, but at Cas’ nod of approval he ran his hands through the wings once more.

It took Dean a while to notice the rough patches dotted amongst the sleek feathers. He reached out to smoot a bit of it back down, and smiled as they twitched beneath his fingers.

“Dude…” Dean breathed, his eyes wide open with – awe? “This is…”

His other hand slowly made its way to the giant wings once more, and Dean grinned as Cas let him brush those fingers through the sparking manifestations of power.

Lost in the silky feel of feathers, Dean almost missed the concentrated look Castiel wore. He drew his hands away ~~regrettably~~ and moved one to Cas’ shoulder. Did he pull some feather or something that wasn’t meant to be pulled? All he _thought_ he had been doing was grooming Cas’ wings… was that, like, angel-taboo?

“Cas, you okay?” Dean asked, not realizing how close he was to his angel’s face until he nearly bumped noses with him. He backed away slightly, but not enough to seem like he was purposefully trying to get away. “Sorry – did I – “

He winced and pulled away once more. “You’re not hurting, are you?” He wouldn’t be able to bear it if he had actually injured Cas. His eyes made a steady path down, except that they caught on something Dean had only seen once before.

Cas’ pants were tented again.

_Oh_.

/

An expression mixed with awe, wonder and confusion clouded Dean’s face, but made it all the clearer at the same time. He looked blissfully perplexed, as was it blissfully perplexing to feel his hunter’s hand caressing through his wings, brushing tips of feathers and running down them in precisely the right motion. 

Dean’s fingers reached an area of disunity in the feathers, where they had been rippled and torn out and grown back, all out of an alignment that Castiel hadn’t known existed in that spot until now. The feathers twitched automatically at the touch, uncomfortable and sensitive due to their misplaced and roughly grown nature, but Dean’s hand soothed them down into a visible, unified array.

All the angel could focus on was the intense expression of wonder on his hunter’s face, observing carefully the faucets of light that appeared as he continued to run his hands down the feathers, brushing away any discomfort they had been holding previously.

Castiel bit his tongue, holding it still. He might’ve purred in that moment had he consciously allowed it, but he knew that would’ve pushed a certain boundary for his hunter that he wasn’t so thrilled about pushing against.

That was when one of Dean’s divinely rapturous fingers tapped at a nerve near the bone structure of his right wing. The angel nearly jumped at the unexpected sensation, the feelings of warm blood pumping through his wings causing them to pleasantly flutter about the two of them, the ends curling slightly around Dean, loosely cocooning him in black, glossy feathers.

“Yes, I’m very good.” Castiel tried to reassure his hunter, who persisted in his belief that the reaction had hurt him. “That wasn’t painful, Dean, believe me.” 

As if to prove his point, the angel lifted his arm, the one Dean currently was resting a hand on, and wrapped a hand around his neck, scooting a bit closer, ignoring the readily hardened feeling in his groin as he kissed his hunter, flitting his tongue across a pair of warm, anticipating lips. 

This kiss, though it shouldn’t have felt any different, did. Combined with the enthralling touch of Dean’s hands nestled in the feathers of his wings, and the pleasantly heated sensuality between them — this one was like no other, as it was so much finer and exceptional than anything else he’d ever experienced. 

/

M’kay, Dean had just noticed the angel-boner Cas had been sporting and then all of a sudden lips were pressed against his own and _well_ , obviously there was some kinda magic going on with the one hand still fisted in Cas’ feathers and the other trying to grasp at the ones closer to where they melted into flesh, because Dean could practically taste the tingling sensation that tickled at his lips.

Okay, so making out with Cas was definitely a good idea. Especially when his wings were nearly shaking with what Dean assumed was pleasure, and it felt like there was a freakin’ electrical storm brewing in his fingertips.

“Could definitely get used to this, Cas,” Dean managed to rumble against the angel’s lips, “Don’t think I want anyone else.”

He hardly realized he was really speaking out loud, but oh _God_ the way his fingers buzzed with power and oh sweet baby Jesus there was a hard dick pressing into his lap, and his was definitely quick to respond. Who knew he could get it up so quickly when dick was involved? Certainly not him - until Cas was surrounding him with his goddamn essence and Dean just wanted all of it to himself. 

Dean managed to get himself stradling Cas’ lap, somehow keeping his hands firmly pressed into the sparking feathers and mouths firmly glued together. He could feel Cas’ heat pressing in at him from all sides, and he knew after feeling slight shocks and tingles along his body that Cas was trying to cover him with his wings. A soft moan escaped Dean’s mouth as he grinded himself into Cas’ lap.

“Hope you don’t mind making this a regular thing,” Dean murmured softly, breaking away to nip just below Cas’ left ear, “because there’s no way I could settle for less, now.” He proved his point by licking a path down from his angel’s ear to collarbone; nipping gently at the skin once he reached the bone. 

Despite what he originally thought, stubble was _really_ fucking sexy. 

/

Currents of static pleasure coursed along the angel’s wings, jumping from where Dean’s fingers created the perfect electricity towards the wing tips, making them curl around the hunter with a considerable amount of ease. His wings fluttered with every beat of his pounding heart, matching the tempo of which he was bringing his and Dean’s tongues to, eagerly welcoming the taste of his hunter in. 

Dean was straddling the angel within moments, and Castiel couldn’t help but wrap his arms around him too, tugging on the fabric of his shirt to bring him nearer. 

“Dean,” The angel breathed, pulling away briefly. “You know it’s a sin to sleep in an uncommitted relationship.” 

The uncontrolled waves of ecstasy that centered where Dean thrusted into him aroused a groan for more as the angel buried his face in his hunter’s shoulder for a moment. The moan Dean had made simultaneously was of the same, alluring, freed nature, though it sounded so much greater, so much more prominent.

“Please.” Castiel growled into his hunter as his tongue slid down his neck, teeth nipped at his bare collarbone — he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“These.” The angel snarled, claiming Dean’s lips again, biting down on the lower one and grasping onto the thin fabric of his undershirt. “Off. Now.” 

His tone of voice left no room for argument, and Castiel watched with painful hunger as Dean removed the undershirt and let it drop to the ground with a satisfying slump. Impatiently, the angel lowered his hands from his hunter’s receptive chest, unzipping his jeans and forcing them down a ways, allowing full access to what he wanted. 

Several times, Castiel ran his fingers across Dean’s length, stroking his member, eliciting beautiful gasps and whimpers from his hunter. Enclosing Dean within his wings even further, so that the midnight feathers brushed against their arms and his hunter’s unclothed back as he firmly gripped Dean’s cock, giving it a remarkably gentle string of pulls and tugs, surely relaxing him.

The marvelous sounds and natural reactions of Dean’s were still so new to the angel, and his fascination only served to grow when he gave his hunter’s dick an affectionate twist.

/

So maybe it shouldn’t have been that hot, with Cas whispering about sin into Dean’s ear. But it was, and it only made Dean groan with pleasure and grin as Cas tightened beneath his deft tongue. “Well, as much as I like to sin-“ Dean licked into Cas’ throat, gripping onto Castiel’s feathers tightly and straining for the right words, “maybe we should – should make this – a” his words morphed into a long moan as his erection bumped into an already achingly familiar strain in Cas’ own pants. Dean continued to nip and suck away, enjoying every bit of his angel’s reactions.

Of course, this didn’t last forever – they were men (or at least, they both were in possession of a penis), and penises had needs, dammit. Cas latched onto Dean’s mouth and fucking _demanded_ his shirt off.

Oh, Dean loved it when Cas got all control-y like that. Just hearing Cas’ commands had Dean tingling in a way he was sure he hadn’t ever felt before.

And the wings?

Sweet _fuck_.

They twitched a few times, but since Dean had a pretty good grip on them they had stayed more or less out of the action while he had been having a great time tasting Cas’ throat. 

Once Dean let go to rip his shirt vehemently off his head, however, not even a little bit sad that he was missing out on his standard four hours of sleep, Cas’ wings curled around them like they were freakin’ bulletproof shields and around them was a freakin’ assassination attempt or something. Some of those fantastic feathers brushed against his body, letting the electrical tingle travel throughout him. He shivered in reaction to this and pressed himself closer in to Castiel’s chest.

“No fair,” Dean hummed at Cas, “you’ve still got all your clothes on.”

But then Cas was unzipping his pants, and all thoughts of evening out the playing field were wiped out of Dean’s head the moment Cas swiped his thumb gently over the head of Dean’s cock. Dean swore, his hands finding their way back to Cas’ wings and holding on tight as Cas stroked and pulled at him.

Then the goddamn angel decided to twist his hand, and Dean was stuck between grinning and cursing and kissing Cas all at the same time. What happened in reality was that Dean made a strange, garbled sound and pulled Cas’ mouth back to his own. His hips bucked up to meet with Cas’ hand, and Dean had a feeling he wasn’t gonna last very long. 

“Fuck, Cas, _don’t stop_.” were the only words he could remember. 


End file.
